


Bits and Pieces

by OnBehalfOfTheBunnies



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Partials
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2018-11-02 19:56:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10951635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnBehalfOfTheBunnies/pseuds/OnBehalfOfTheBunnies
Summary: Rather than posting many, I'm just going to shove the little short bits and scenes that pop into my head as chapters in this for now. I may work them in elsewhere later, but for the moment here is where they'll stay.I'm not saying they're good, they're definitely not beta'd, but it gets them out of my notes document.





	1. Chapter 1

Sometimes I wish I could selectively erase things I made in the past. It would make situations like this less of a reoccurring thing. These idiots need me to unlock the codex, lucky that I am the only one with the information they need to make it work, because I’m the idiot who created it. When the snatch and grab failed to work earlier in the day and their limited window of opportunity rapidly closing their genius plan is to siege us.

My team, my friends, make a circle, fighting while I stand there in the center like useless bait. Even with all of them, there are too many of these people and they just keep getting closer.. _At least they’re not using guns, or knives, or-_

“Give us Ms. Smoak and we’ll leave the rest of you alone. She will be returned, unharmed, when she has unlocked the codex.” John doesn’t even hesitate, punching that smug asshole in the face, a valid response I have come to expect from any of them.

A thought slithers across my mind. _It’s too easy, it couldn’t work…right?_ The sounds of fighting are so loud and close that I can barely think it through. _They need me, and they need it done in the next two hours or else they’ve lost their window…It could work!_ “Tranq me.” I get the side eye, but otherwise am ignored. “They have a limited window and need me cooperative for it. Come on…” I look for the weakest link, ”Curtis.”

“No. Hell no.” He’s just close enough though, I grab the tranquilizer gun holstered on his leg while he’s busy fighting. _Sometimes you’ve gotta do it for yourself._

Curtis curses, taking a hit while grabbing at my hands.

“Greenie! She’s going to-“ _Greenie? Have you lost your mind?_

‘Felicity?” Oliver’s altered voice is strained with exertion over the comm.

“Yes Sir?” I try to make it light, distracting from my goal so he won’t stop, drop, and grab.

“You need to be ready to run.”

“Actually, just the opposite.” I don’t miss the looks John and Dinah give each other, collectively backing in a step as another swarm of bodies joins our opponents. I cock the weapon, unfamiliar with this one, but it’s definitely one of the tranqs in its bright colors. “I need to take myself out of the equation.” I flinch as it punches deep into muscle. _Son Of A Bitch!_ More immediately strike into the already numbing area with faint noises, and my leg starts then manages to not quite give out. I didn’t realize this was quite so automatic… “Oops.”

My racing heartbeat spreads the drugs through my system, making the room start to spin before I can even get my hand to release. The tranq gun clatters to the ground and I start to follow as everything goes wobbly.

A green blur swoops me up. I make a whimper at the dulled flare of pain as he yanks the darts out of my thigh. “Four? God Felicity, four!?” His voice is stretchy, a long tunnel of sound, swirling like the drain of shadows engulfing me.

 _I don’t feel so…_ My mouth opens and closes, words failing as chills wrack through me. _Can’t-_

“What were you thinking? That’s enough to take d-“

 

<{———{[{  

 

My cocoon starts fraying, edges of noise and light bleeding into the delightfully smothering gray. Beeping, hissing, some monotone chatter of a PA system…too far away to understand. Pale swaths of light make me close my blurry eyes again before they can focus.

 

<{———{[{  

 

Something pulls open my eyelid, another something shines painfully bright light into my eye and I groan a half formed protest at the intrusion. My name is called and I complain a weak, “Turn it off.” Only to have it blind my other eye.

“That was the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.” When Oliver is _that_ quiet, in _that_ tone he is lethally angry

“It worked.”

“It worked? It worked in stopping your heart.” _That would explain the pain_. “If I hadn’t sucked some of the extra out before it could… _You never do something like that again._ ”

A small nod is my agreement. He keeps snarling, and I try to listen, I do, but I’m so tired….

 

<{———{[{  

 

The piercing shriek of my mom, recognizable anywhere, has me jerking awake, the fingers laced with mine, grip tight and I try to make sense of where I am.


	2. 5x23 Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a super short one that came to mind pre-5x23 airing. Because I’m hoping for some fun like when Nyssa and Merlin had their couple seconds of banter when Felicity and Slade (even in theory less crazy due to the Mirakuru being cured) see each other again. Here’s hoping that the Arrow writers + actor improve will scratch that itch. Let’s see how misleading that preview ends up being…

There is a harsh growling sound. Against every instinct I turn and look, rather than listening to the sane part of my brain which demands an attempt to flee. I stare straight into the face of a person that, when last we met, I throat punched with the Mirakuru cure. His stay with ARGUS doesn’t seem to have made him look any less feral, lethal, scary as hell…

His sword is pointed at me and I stammer, “Mr. Stroke- Deathstroke, Slade, Mr. Slade…you-you are an unexpected surprise.” He lifts the mask slightly, so it rests on the top of his head. _Not any less terrifying_. “Does everyone who was stranded here return to take these trips down memory lane, or just the few of you? Gotta tell you, there is a _whole industry_ around isolated tropical paradises you should look into.”

“Watch yourself Felicity,” he says each syllable of my name as if they are separate words, “this island is full of _surprises_. There are a few I would be happy to introduce you to.”

The babble, that had been readying to be a scathing retort, dies on my tongue.

Oliver finishes checking the perimeter, stepping between Slade and the rest of us. His eyes looking each of us over again, unhidden relief on his face when he sees everyone relatively unhurt, the small touches…reassurances that we each are most certainly real on this island of nightmares. “Where’s Dinah? Rene?”

John finishes unlocking his cuffs, moving on to help Thea. “Haven’t seen them.”


	3. Untitled (for now) Part 01 - 5x23 end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta read, not much more than two chapters thought out for this one... which is longer than the other drabbles in this collection, transcribing from what I wrote down since watching 5x23 on Wednesday…

“Supply ship, Eastern shore, follow him –,“ I point at Slade, “Now!”

There are no questions. We run, following Slade’s breakneck strides, weaving through trees along what cannot possibly be a path. Samantha trips on a tree root but John grabs her, half carrying until she can get her footing and keep moving.

A thought has me cursing out. “Arte-Evelyn! We left her in that cage-“

One of the boys snaps, “He told you run, then there’s no time! Run!”

_No time…no time, but I can’t just…_ “The boat is east?” I palm the tablet that can help me get where I need to go. Evelyn, then meet with them, make a shortest path through the island imagery. _Just in case…Just in case…Just in case._ “Curtis, take this!” he slows from the front of the pack, managing to grab the comms piece as I tap at the tablet, tracing out a path and breaking off at a run, “Get Samantha to that boat- I’ll meet you there!” There is half a second of protests, and I take on my best commanding voice, “Hurry!”

Slade yells out harsh instructions to Nyssa, then in long strides catches up, yanking my shoulder to navigate us, “This way Ms. Smoak.”

Our feet never slow, and they don’t follow us.

I try to think it out, how to disable the devices, I can’t type and run, but I can think. _I just need enough to make a safe space…if I can knock individual ones off the network of them…Pull the antennae off, if they can’t get the signal…_

As we crash out into the clearing Evelyn is kicking at the cage hard and fast, desperation in speed. She looks up with a snarl, “You just had to take my key, didn’t you?”

“You just had to be a backstabbing bitch, didn’t you? We didn’t have to come for you, but here we are, so shut up, you’re going to need to run.”

 “I have a bad feeling about this…” Slades voice is a low growl, “We’re not going to make it to the boat.” He eyes Evelyn as I frantically work on the devices.

_Just in case..._

Managing to disconnect the first from their network is the hardest, _That son of a bitch is smart, but I’m smarter._ After that it just takes about ten seconds at each, running an expanding circle to grab the info I need to break the individual ones, the network still refuses to go down as a group.

Slade grabs and lobs the ones I finish away, into the woods, Evelyn resumes kicking. _It’s a small circle, is it too small?_ My fingers fly, code after code. _Don’t think about the others…don’t think about them, they’ll be safe, they’re smart, they’re…Focus!_

There is a blast from far away and the tablet shows the start of a chain detonation. “God-!“

Slade takes down the lock with one savage kick that should not be possible from someone locked up in an ARGUS cell for any length of time. Pulling down his mask and dragging Evelyn out of the cage to the middle of the ‘safe’ area, “Smoak! Here,” His arm extends, “now!”

The world has gone crazy as I run to Slade, and he pulls us tighter, “Get down then pray to whatever gods you believe in!”

His body covers, wraps around us, Evelyn fighting him. “Relax! Don’t tense, it’s how drunk people survive car wrecks.”

“This is no car wreck.” He pushes us forward, towards the ground, sheltering with his larger frame…

I manage a tight, disbelieving, “Thank you,” as the nearby blasts throw us airborne.

Reality goes too chaotic to process with explosions and fire, and an odd metallic shrieking to understand what’s happening in a jumble of seconds before everything goes dark.


	4. Untitled (for now) Part 02 - 5x23 end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta read, not much more than two (split it up so, three) chapters thought out for this one... which is longer than the other drabbles in this collection, transcribing from what I wrote down since watching 5x23 on Wednesday…

A dull, raucous coughing comes from the dark beside me…I’m- _We’re alive?_ Breathing, that sounds like a good idea.  My ear rings, the other not much more than muffled hints, the effect making me feel like I’m moving. I open my eyes, staring up into a gray haze. _Where are my glasses? Is this a…a pit?_

Everything is sort of numb so it takes a long time blinking before realizing the crush of Slade across me is why I can’t move. The back of his shirt is tatters, fragments of Kevlar and a bloody scorching of blistered skin. “Slade?” No response. A quick glance around as thoughts start working, “Evelyn?” It’s hard to tell what’s around with all the shadows.

There. That’s her head…attached to her body, arms, legs, whole. Is he? Head, back- gross, so gross…protected…”Slade! Evelyn! Slade! God you’re so heavy.” No responses so I try bracing him and trying to wriggle out without moving him too much. At least he’s breathing, and based on the coughing from Evelyn again, she’s alive too.

It is slow progress, but once free I get a better look. I’m no doctor, but even I can tell his burns are serious and Evelyn’s leg is broken. The a heavily bleeding gash just above her hairline isn’t promising, a big chunk of his mask is missing, exposing dirty, bloody skin framed by the jagged edge where it broke away. Both are still out cold.

_There has to be something I can use in here_. Hunting through the rubble. We’re in a pit, a room that was exposed through the blasts, and debris. The collapsed roof doesn’t leave much in view, but the angle is good enough that later I think I can try to carefully, slowly, climb up to ground level. Framed by the edges I can see Trees burning, thick smoke full of burning leaves and fluttering ashes occasionally raining down soot and embers into the area around us. I salvage a dozen water bottles, and one of those thin, crinkly metallic reflector blankets…and a tiny first aid kit among the debris and useless weapons. It’ll have to do.

Downing one of the waters, I use my jacket as a bag and move everything else out of the mess and over to where the other two people lay. “I’m going to rinse your back.” I say to the unconscious psychopath who inexplicably just saved my life. Nicking one of the water bottles, and quickly getting the dirt and blood off my hands before I dribble it gently as I can to clean the damage. There’s not much I can do for it…cleaner, the big bits of _not him_ picked away. Unfolding one of the few gauze pads as wide as it will go I spread a thin layer from the small tube of antibiotic ointment over it then cover most of his back. That’s about all I can do for him.

Evelyn is no more pleasant. The head wound had clotted before I worked on Slade, so rinsing it means I have to be fast. Ointment and gauze.

I was blessed in my life, as never having had to try and set a broken bone. _John would know what to do…He wouldn’t be gagging just trying to- Ugh! No. no, don’t commit that feeling to memory!_ The bone edges sort of puzzle piece against each other so the leg looks mostly straight. Dry heaves are not aided by the disorientation of my messed up ears.

Looking up, I see my next task. If I don’t get those things away from the edge they’re going to come crashing in and that’s going to be more problems. Grabbing my jacket and Slade’s sword from where I used it on the water bottles, I crawl up and get my first glance at the decimated forest.

The smell of forest fires is sharp and overwhelming, no signs of life anywhere amid the still burning trees or the polluted skies. I use my jacket to grab and move the smouldering debris from the edges. Even with the water burned out, these giant chunks of tree are heavy, so I hack at them and when that fails, try to use the sword as a lever. Like everything else since the blasts started it’s not perfect, but it’s the best I can do.

My voice is rough, but talking to myself is slightly more reassuring than just thinking to myself, “Ok. We lived.” _The others…_ “We’re trapped, but those can’t burn forever. ARGUS, Oliver, will come.” _Unless they’re already out here?_

I take a deep breath but end up coughing and choking on the smoke. _Bad idea_.

Covering my face with the edge of my shirt I try again, doing a little better before yelling out, “Hello?” …Silence. “Help?” …Still nothing. It’s still light, they wouldn’t have had enough time to find the others and find us yet. _Wait…what was that?_ The groan comes again from down the hole

I skid-scramble, but not fall, back down. Evelyn wants to fight, only the damage to her leg keeps her mostly still. Her slurred insults become background noise, and I slump to catch my breath. Slade still hasn’t woken up and his back is hot, I’m not sure if it’s just from the burning or if it’s an infection setting in. I slowly pour another water bottle over the gauze, trying to help cool him down.

Evelyn says something stupid and my ability to tune her out snaps. “You shut your stupid mouth! We came back for you, so you’d have a shot at living instead of roasting alive in that cage. He didn’t have to help, didn’t have to shield either of us from the explosions. He chose to, so right now he’s miles higher on my list of tolerable people than you are.”

“If you hadn’t-“

“Shut up!”

It’s probably the concussion, and the words are begrudging and full of hate, followed quickly by an insult that I’m quite certain I’ve never been called to my face before, but at least there is a _thank you._ She falls into a petulant pout as only a teenager can truly perfect. I roll her a couple water bottles and hand off the thermal blanket and climb back up to take my frustration out on moving more embers and charcoal.

Despite my efforts Slade is feverish by nightfall. The only thing creepier than spending a night in a hole with two very dangerous people on a deserted island, is spending the night in a hole with two very dangerous people on an _entirely silent_ deserted island. The occasional crashing thuds, as a tree breaks and topples, doesn’t count. I end up curled up around myself next to Slade, leeching his heat since my jacket is somewhere above ground and the only thing that will get me back up there before daybreak is the sounds of help. They don’t come.

I wake to my own uncontrolled coughing. Hacking out dark globs of whatever my lungs can clear out and gasping for breath is not a pleasant alarm clock and defiantly doesn’t feature a snooze button.

I try to wake Slade, managing to get a single harsh groan, but he’s delirious. Trickling drops of water into his mouth I eye the dwindling stock but still rewet the gauze. Sweat gathers and trails down his face and neck, so I keep pushing the water, until I’ve forced about a cup into him.

My stomach protests the lack of food but even searching more near where the kit was doesn’t produce anything edible. I force myself back up.

The fires are out. _Think positive._ _The fires are out so we’ll be easier to find, to reach._ I look around the landscape of black and gray. _The explosions should have taken out all the landmines._ Nothing else comes to mind that can be remotely categorized as good. As a miserable icy drizzle starts I realize I should have included that it wasn’t raining. It’s not even enough to get clean-ish with, just enough to chill to the bone and make things slickly muddy.

I drag a couple more things to the edge of the destruction, it’ll be easier to spot a big blank than to spot an arrow…I hope.

The rest of the day is a freezing coughing huddle, helping inch Evelyn over to share the Slade heat. She does not share the small blanket. I manage to get him to swallow an entire bottle of water, drop by drop. Night falls at some point, rolling in and out of a fitful sleep I don’t notice. Each waking breath starts to feel like I’m drowning, and I curl up closer with the two people who in recent memory would probably have had no hesitation in killing me. _We will be ok. They’ll find us…soon. They’ll be here soon…_


	5. Untitled (for now) Part 03 - 5x23 end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta read (not even spell/grammar checked or read over, just a straight transcription from a stack of sticky notes) , just one more chapter because this one ran long thought out for this one... longer than the other drabbles in this collection and in theory will be expanded on/revised/at least titled one day in the future, transcribing from what I wrote down since watching 5x23 last week, should have the last little bit typed up this weekend…

Someone is calling my name. They sound muffled and miles away, but that’s definitely my name.

I drag open my eyes reality slowly kicking in. My voice is a hoarse whisper, “Slade?” I should say we’ll be ok, but that one word was a challenge enough. No, not Slade, I can feel the heat of him against me, the slight movements of breathing don’t rumble with the repeat of my name. “Oliver?” _He won’t be able to hear you, whistle…_ I try to clear my throat for a deep breath but end up in a fit of shallow gasping and coughing interspersing the high tone.

There is a flash of green at the edge of this…pit, and the noise dies on my lips. “Felicity?”

“Hey.” I rasp, stiffly trying to uncurl from the tight huddle against the feverish body beside me while Oliver skids down the slant towards us.

Hand on a radio he tells someone we’re here, alive before getting to the bottom. He almost scoops me up, instead stopping his outreached hands, kissing my forehead and trying to check me over.

“You’re ok?” We both say at the same time.

There is a pause, then he says hesitantly, “Felicity, honey, you’re looking rough.”

Ignoring the obvious truth of it I start, “I’m o-“ my body tries to invalidate my words with a coughing fit. When I manage to breathe again without gasping I turn to questions, my teeth chattering as I try to remember the important things, “William…everyone…did they-?”

“William’s fine, the team…mostly fine. They went to the water- I picked them up in the boat. They said you two…why would you-?”

“I couldn’t just… leave her in a cage to-” I wheeze, my breath stolen.

His hands, still gentle, tighten, the warmth only making me recognize it everywhere else more intensely. The words are quiet, “I love that you care so much, but next time go with the damn group!” He starts saying something, cuts himself off, then starts again, “We flew over this part a day ago, but with the destruction, and lack of bodies…we didn’t see this until the drone- your jacket…” _I knew I left it up_ there. His eyes stray to the other two down here with me then starts to work his arm under my shoulders.

“Slade, he- help him!”

“You first.”

“Oliver,” my hand rests on his, “he got hurt shielding me, please…don’t make me win this. Him.”

I push him, when he tries to protest again and start coughing when trying to argue more. He hurries up and pulls Slade up in a fireman’s carry.  Crawling up as he carries him, I slip getting an additional layer of mud painted along my front, nearly sending me sliding to where Evelyn still lays. Strong hands lift me up the rest of the way.

“You’re a sight-“ _John_. I hug onto him as he passes Oliver, who nods and goes back for the last of us.

Someone in an ARGUS uniform is looking over Slade in a small aircraft…not a plane, not a helicopter, something I’m too exhausted to make sense of. When I start coughing again, wet rattling aching worse in this position, John grabs an oxygen kit and fits the mask over my face. “Her leg…” The cool air is both horrible with my freezing body, and wonderful as it helps me breathe, I still feel like I’m going to fall asleep any second, so I strain and finish the half thought, “it’s broken…tried to help…”

I get a blanket, an IV, and space to curl up between friends. Two sets of hands hold mine, warming them from ice. _OTA forever_. I fall asleep before we even take off.

We land on top of a hospital in China not long after and they cart the others off, approaching me with a wheelchair. Oliver, his green hoodie filthy from contact with me, sets me down but my fingers grab his arm before he can leave. “Let go Felicity, I’ll push.” Reluctantly I do.

I end up in a small room, the staff don’t speak English so Oliver is the one lucky enough to translate as I argue that I can clean the mud and ash off myself. “You tell them-,“ I have to pause to catch my breath. Having snatched a washcloth from one of the nurses, I go to town on scrubbing my arm where they want to place sensors, “I’m perfectly capable-“

He starts and they cut him off with words and motions, “They want you to let them do their jobs, they can check to make sure there isn’t anything that needs treatment while they-“

I speak over both of them while the plastic is pulled off a sticky pad and one of the machines to the side starts a quiet beeping, “I am able-“

He holds up his hands, saying something to them, telling me to wait, then gesturing at the nurse who resumes a fast monolog. “The doctor thinks it’s pneumonia.” _Pneumonia_? “All the smoke you were breathing in…” _Stupid pneumonia brought on by stupid smoke inhalation from a stupid idiot trying to blow us all up_.

I don’t let my exhaustion show, dipping the washcloth in the basin and continuing to clean towards my fingertips. Of course it’s a ruse, of course it would be easier to let them do it, but I _need_ to be doing something, _need_ to be productive and not show just how much I’m still freaking out on the inside. Hospitals are not my favorite place to be… “Convince her I can do this myself.” I say pointedly, smothering another hacking cough.

Oliver looks like he wants to be away from this showdown of stubbornness but speaks fast. The staff is not pleased. I get serious frowns and a long tirade full of gestures in my direction. He doesn’t translate, and I have to hold my breath to keep the next cough, desperate to get out, lodged in my throat.

Oliver chimes in with an exasperated response when there is a fraction of a second pause. Whatever he said does the trick, because I find the things I need on a small side table pushed up to me as they shuffle out.

“What’d you say?” I ask, tugging off my now brown-gray pants.

He turns towards the closed door, “I let them know how much experience I have loosing arguments to you and how pointless it is to try when you have your mind set on something.”

“Are…are you trying to…why are you turning?”

“Just giving you some privacy.”

_Are you insane? You’ve seen-touched-more all of me…_ “Don’t be weird. Help with the-” I motion at the closure at the back of my shirt, trying to catch my breath again.

He does. “Want me to unhook…?”

I nod, unfolding the shapeless hospital gown. The pressure of my bra eases and the relief is like a blessing. Managing a sincere, “Thank you!” while he cuts the fabrics to allow it to pull off without taking out the IV and monitor leads.

Oliver takes the second washcloth and starts getting my face and neck while I clean my hands, both of us silent. He is extra gentle around the singed skin, and the abrasions from the crash, pausing each time I need to try and clear my lungs.

The thought comes up and I voice it without really considering if it’s an appropriate time, “Marry me.”

“What?” The panicked half smile, the fast glance at the monitors and IV, like he thinks I’m delirious and not really aware of what I said.

I made up my mind, if I got through this I would ask. “We can work on us, but I-“ more strangled gasping for air ruining the moment, “Marry me?”

His eyebrows scrunch together, “I’ve asked you that twice and almost fake married you once.”

“Me too.”

“We can talk about this la-“

“Oliver, marry me.”

“Is that a question or a demand?”

“Not really sure, both? There’s too much crazy in-”  A fit takes me, until I’m dizzy and holding onto his arm to stay sitting up.

“Let me get the nurse.”

“I love you,” I gasp out, “More than love you.”

“Yes. Ok? Yes I still want to marry you, but let’s get you better and talk this out before-“

“I’ll take the yes.”

He kisses my now clean forehead, “Lean back, relax, I’ll be right back with the nurse.”

I get scolded, not that I understand, or that he translates anything but a “She’s worried you’re pushing yourself.” As if it takes that many words in that tone to say just that. A does of something is added to my IV and in minutes everything starts to go slow. I’m clean…clean enough, dressed, medicated, and buried under a mound of blankets of course my eyelids sink closed. Oliver’s hand squeezes mine as the nurse says something that doesn’t sound angry, “Your body needs sleep to get better, I’m going to go check on William. I make some noise of agreement and let the soothing call of sleep overtake me.


	6. Untitled (for now) Part 04 - 5x23 end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not beta read (not even spell/grammar checked or read over, just a straight transcription from a stack of sticky notes), last bit I had followed down the stream of consciousness path... longer than the other drabbles in this collection and in theory will be expanded on/revised/at least titled one day in the future, transcribed (so nice to have one “set” of sticky notes gone from my stack and not just into another non-digital form) from what I wrote down since watching 5x23 last week.  
> I have zero more of this story thought out, and don't plan on trying at the moment. I’d rather focus on the main one (16k words + relevant parts from my 8k unorganized/fast transcription doc + so many pages of to-be-transcribed) I in theory will put up one day…

I am woken by a voice against my ear. “I hear you wish to wed my husband.”

Blearily I open my eyes, “Nyssa?” _She’s ok. If she’s ok, the others…_

“I will say he and I share our taste in blondes.” She gives a feral smile. “You remind me of Sara when we first met, almost a childlike innocence. Lips press against my cheek in what can only be taken as a threatening kiss. “If you hurt him _You Will_ answer to me. The league may be disbanded, but there is nowhere in this world we will not find you…and you know the thing about assassins?” She continues through my wheezing, still noisy even if it feels so much less like I’m drowning out of water than before I slept. “We know how to kill fast, but we also know how to drag it out. This I promise you.” She ghosts a finger down my forehead, over my nose, across my lips, ignoring the coughing, “Keeping you alive will be no mercy.”

“Nyssa, what are you doing in here?” _Oliver!_ His footsteps are solid and have him right next to us.

“Just discussing how we plan to take our bride to the marriage bed.” She says it with a smile.

He frowns.

I keep coughing out my lungs.

“Nyssa…”

Her response is just as succinct, “Husband.” _I know he got it annulled before we even got to Ivy Town. She’s just doing it to get a rise. She’s pissed about something, why does that include me?_

“Please find somewhere else to be.” A politely phrased demand, with all the anger his quiet voice can intone, while placing himself between the pair of us, brushing a hand over mine.

When we are alone I manage to rasp, “Why’s she angry with me?”

“She’s angry with me.”

“Why?”

“I had to choose, and I chose one over many.” He runs a hand across his jaw, looking anywhere but at me, starting to pace the room.

“What?”

“He gave me a choice, everyone or William.”

“You chose your son. Of course.” I state the obvious fact, waiting for the reason she’s pissed. His head droops, still not looking at me. “Why are you acting like you were wrong? He’s the only one who didn’t choose this life.” I have to catch my breath for a second, “You made the right decision.”

His shoulders slump ever so slightly.

“Oliver Jonas Queen, you made the correct choice!”

“Not everyone survived.”

_Who?! No! No, don’t ask! It’s not real until…_ I can’t move over to him, “Oh Oliver… come here.” I scoot over, making just enough space on the small bed for him if we both lay on our sides. Pushing wires out of the way I wait only long enough for him to reluctantly lay down, facing me, before wrapping him in a hug. “You made the right choice.”

His face buries in my hair, hair that I realize was washed and let down at some point while I was asleep. The small trembles of his body, the grieving he will always hide from everyone…I just keep reassuring him, because it’s the truth. He made the right choice in a seemingly impossible decision.


	7. Mistakes - Innocent and Not 1/?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a short stand alone fic when I work it all out. I have the very start (minus the call between the two sets of ellipses) , a couple different parts of the middle, and a little near but not quite the end. Not sure when those missing parts/connections will come to mind, and really need to finish up the chapter of my main and get it posted, so this is sort of back burner.

A frustrated laugh teases against my lips. His voice is low, rough around the edges, “That’s my phone.”

I dig my fingers into those gorgeous exposed shoulders of his, encouraging him to stay on task exactly where he is. “Work…,” a soft kiss, “or telemarketers…Ignore it, we’re in the middle of something more important, Husband.” I use the title to my unfair advantage, and it is a glowing success.

He kisses me again as the chimes continue, his hand doing delightful things with small focused motions. I’m moaning, writhing, as his mouth is teasing its way down from my clavicle on a journey he breathes in midnight toned promises against my skin when my phone joins the chorus. Oliver’s head tilts, looks up to my face, then over at the dual ringing. “Your phone-“

The use of his lips and tongue to state the obvious instead of continuing is not appreciated. A shake of my head, hips arching up, encouraging, reaching and pressing on his wrist, grinding those fingers to reach juuust right. My breath hitches, “Work, s-spam, ign…ore!”

He curses under his breath, those damn phones continue repeating their demands. I say his name the same way he just swore. “I know, just let me check…I promise I’ll make it up to you.” His fingers ease from my body, hand from my grip, pushing up to his knees and giving me a teasing view of those soft sleep pants tented out with the evidence he is just as into _this_ as I am.

His expression is full of arousal and apology, even as my fingers try to replace his. I frown and feel my other fingertips through the small collections of items on the handtowel near my side, not wanting to lose the progress. By the time he’s standing I’ve nudged aside the condoms, massage oil/lube combo, buzzy stretchy cock ring, and palmed the toy I sought.

He taps his phone…

…

…

I’m already getting up, scooping the whole towel into the night stand before heading towards my closet. Minutes later we are in the elevator, headed down to the parking level his car is in.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oliver Queen, don’t you dare! William takes priority and we both know it.” I raise our joined hands up between us, “However, Husband,” I trace my tongue against the skin between his first and second fingers, “you do owe me.” I can taste the nearly washed away hint of myself, not my favorite flavor but that’s not the point because ever since our wedding he’s seemed damn near addicted to it. If I wasn’t so close I’d have missed the faint tensing, the silently sucked in breath. Once those door open we will be all business but I’m not passing up the last chance I might have to lighten his mood and draw away his focus before whatever is going to go down happens.

He dips his head down, kissing me hard, desperate for that fast comfort of touch; it’s instinctive but entirely necessary, and the tightness of the embrace he wraps me in lets me know just how much he needs it.


	8. Impulsive Happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief drabble that popped into my head at lunch today. This is just a couple of the five sticky notes I wrote it down on when all I had was a thick marker and a stickypad to get the idea down. I'll edit and post it as a separate (very short obviously) fic tonight.

The priest turns to Iris and starts the familiar line to repeat, the real ones, the ones that were thought out and personal we're said hours before, when we weren't sure who was going to make it back. No-one will complain about the easy traditional ones after everything that has happened.

I rest my stare on Oliver again, wishing for another smile on his face. His attention flicks to me and I smile, encouragingly at him. The faint tightening around his eyes and smallest twitch at the corner of his lips might be the best I get... Impulsively I mouth the words with the bride, changing them ever so slightly. ' _I Felicity Megan Smoak-_ ' Oliver's gaze sharpens, confusion paints his face, like he's trying to interpret a warning in the small, silent, motions of my lips.

Then it turns to something else...surprise maybe? ' _Take Oliver Jonas Queen, to be my lawfully wedded husband..._ ' This is the second time I'll have made the sentiment in words, at least this time there is no need to worry about _Cupid_ trying to bury a heart shaped arrowhead through any of us. At the shape of his full name and the words that follow I earn a startled smile.

For a moment it feels like we're the only two in the room. Iris and I finish, and the priest addresses Barry. Oliver's eyes don't leave my mine. He mouths the same silent vows to me, then his lips ever so slightly purse and part, the motion of a kiss spread into a full smile. I'm sure by now I'm beaming.


	9. Near the end of Fundamental Cracks Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Part One of Fundamental Cracks has been lots of dark, depressing, with only the occasional bit of humorous or what is literally in my drafts under headings of "Sexytime". Part Two should be a lot lighter, more fun and playful. Apinksunset was oh so kind as to inadvertently point out that I hadn't included the bits where I bring the Diggles back into the story, so I rambled on and included a portion of a far away near-the-end-of-Part-Two chapter.
> 
> Posting it here will keep me from changing it too dramatically, and also lets me include the start since I had one character left and a couple sentences wouldn't fit.

The crew is all cleaned up and talking weekend plans as I finish the last of the camera wipes. The algorithms should, and do catch most of the traffic cameras and security system recordings, overwriting the minutes around anything matching the images I’ve loaded, but there are always a few stragglers.

Waving at Oliver as he enters the elevator, I’m just checking the last pair when Thea calls.

“What on earth are you doing wasting your Friday ni-“

“Don’t let Oliver leave!”

“Sorry?”

“Someone’s trying to expose him as you know who, on a livestream. I tried calling, stop him!

“He’s already in the elevator…” The motor quiets signaling the carriage reached the upper level. “Call him!” _Crap_.

I run to the stairs, taking them two at a time, bursting out as he’s pulling the door open. He turns towards me, my name a question half formed on his lips. I can see a bright light shining through as the door keeps swinging open, but the blinds around the room are all pulled. I practically tackle him, never a doubt in my mind that he’ll catch me. His eyes widen in surprise. Even as he takes a step back, bracing, while I impact his frame, my hands go to his hair and I give him a messy, showy kiss.

I pull away with a tight smile, talking louder than necessary, “Forgot that in your rush to get back to work.”

He gives me a confused look, licking his lips, a hint of a smile hidden there under traces of my lipstick.

There is a noise near the door and we both look, two people stand there with the bright lights of phones and another with a tablet being held up across the doorframe.

I make a falsely shocked “Oh!” of surprise.

Three sets of questions come rapid fire.


	10. Shot Through the Heart ?/?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short fragment of a fic I’m trying to pull together. Posting helps motivate me to actually keep working at it so this is just the first of the four pages I’ve cobbled together from a couple images that popped into my mind…though I’m kinda thinking I’ll work the Halloween/cosplaying as Rose/Ten/Tentoo I have a few paragraphs on as the start rather than beginning with this. So many options…

Scanning my eyes back over the crowd, I try to figure out why doing that the first time sent a crawling wave of unease through me. Happy or bored people, a scattered bit of applause and laughter as Oliver hints at a joke.

They’ve taken it surprisingly well, like it was the whole city’s inside secret or wink-wink-nudge-nudge-joke that only the oblivious didn’t know, when, courtesy of Chase’s multi-level-deep backup plans, the press painted the scandal that Oliver is the Green Arrow. More than anything there was a collective ‘meh.’ Of course there were the denouncers, decrying that there was any way Oliver could possibly be a masked hero, photoshops done over the years to make it seem ridiculous, or the strangers they insist have to be ‘ _The Real Green Arrow_.’ The candid photos someone somehow got of him shirtless, from who knows where, but I can see it’s recent, shut most of them up. The damage to his body isn’t something you get by being Mayor. I’m sure when he was first accused of being a vigilante it surprised them, the second, then third time though…  _There!_

William gives a startled yelp as I yank him towards me while gasping his dad’s name. The small dot leaves the center of his chest, stops glinting off the zipper on his jacket, as time slows. There is a thunderous noise, at least in my mind, and the glass window that was behind the boy is a glittering, crumbling spider web.

Someone screams, and another too loud sound starts to echo, then everything bursts into chaotic noise.

The momentum, the centrifugal force is too much, William starts going past. I grip tighter, pulling as hard as I can to move him so he’ll end up behind me by the time Oliver will get in front of both of us. His arc is broken when he suddenly slams backwards against my chest with a sharp pained cry that pierces rest of the noise.  _NO!_ We crash backwards through the broken glass.

“NO!” Oliver’s breathless denial feels like it takes minutes to hear, not fractions of a second.


	12. Other Spousal Privileges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Super short half a minute AU that popped into my head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short, under 400 words that I doubt would get made into anything longer. Got pulled away from my main stories by work but I had time for this. Slightly AU – only real change is that Felicity and Oliver didn’t get married, just continued their relationship.  
> (In case it's not obvious through anything I write, basically I think of Felicity as her own fandom of Team Arrow, their biggest supporter and unrestricted in her fantasies. She loves them as family, is in love with Oliver, but that doesn't stop her from acknowledging the beauty of each of them, at least to herself)

I take a bite, then motion the wiggly end of the candy rope between them, “You two could always get married. Then he couldn’t testify against you and wouldn’t have to leave town again. Spousal privileges and all that.”

There are a few blustered noises of confusion and a protest from everyone but John, who actually appears to be weighing the validity of the suggestion.

“Felicity, that’s ridiculous!”

I take another bite. “We’re looking for ideas and that’s the first one that has any possibility of working so far. It’s not like you’ll have to prove it for the cameras or anything, a legal marriage is a legal marriage.”

Thea makes a face at the thought of Roy and her brother. The men look awkwardly at each other. _Not gonna lie, my mind tries to wander off at the thought of the two of them kissing…maybe after a sparring session…Hello fantasy visuals of many muscles…Muscles and suits…Oh hey John wanders in to join in the mix for an Arrow, Green Arrow, and other Green Arrow makeout session…_

“Felicity!” My name is sharp from John, making it clear it’s not the first time he’s said it and my train of thought must’ve gone on longer than I realized.

I ignore the blush that heats my face. “Look, they alredy think he’s the Arrow, and just like you became the Green Arrow, he could have just as easily. It would explain why you are in contact with him, why he is so interwoven with your-, no, our lives. He could accurately say he was under the involuntary influence of Mirakuru for the old accusations. Win-win! John’s already ordained, so it’s not like we couldn’t just do it fast and quiet.”

Thea grabs the elbow of my candy arm and tugs me out of eavesdropping distance. “You can’t think this is a good idea!”

“I love you, and cherish you the same way those idiots, not John he’s only an idiot when it comes to hurting himself, in there won’t admit they do, as family. But I swear to all that is pervy, if you’re against it just because it’s your boyfriend and your brother might have to give a kiss or hug and pretend to be more than what they are, then you’d better have a damn good idea of your own. We can’t let them ruin this for us, Thea, it’s our families.”


	13. Pre 06x18 airing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I typed this straight into Ao3 because [I had] to leave in 10 minutes but it popped into my head with a fierceness that I have to type it out.  
> Any typos are my own fault, and it's just a short little blurb that the show will prove to have none of this happening in under an hour  
> Happy Thursday!

The marker squeaks to a halt as my stomach lurches from the fumes. I stay absolutely still, wishing this away as Curtis unhelpfully repeats the rest of the formula that I didn't finish writing.

He looks up from his laptop at me when I don't put it on the board, I can feel his eyes on my back even if I can't see them. "Uh, Felicity, it's really important to, you know, have all of this down."

"I-"  _Nope._ The marker drops, clattering and rolling away as I run to the bathroom and dry heave. It doesn't take long. This has been on and off for the past couple days, and until now I've been able to stay by myself until this...this...this witching hour has passed. I make sure to only have a few sips of coffee or water before nine, because if I can make it until then I'll be good, but this morning it squeaked in just under the line with just three minutes to go.

It's not fair, I didn't have anything this morning and my caffeine withdrawal is pounding a headache behind my eyes. 

"Uh, not to tell you how to do things in your own home but you didn't flush and this is technically also the office, so it's definitely an 'if it's yellow _don't_ let it mellow, if it's brown then flush it down' environment." 

"Well if it's neither then nothing needs to happen."

"Puke counts as brown."

"I didn't puke, my body just _tried_ to puke. There's a difference. And it's after nine I'm in the clear for the rest of the day."

"You're clear? You're not picking up an eating disorder, or...or oh! Like morning, and puking, and _damn that was faster than I expected_ after your reaction last time to the suggestion because you kinda bit my head off but oh my god we're having a baby!"

I give him a withering glare at the delight in his voice. " _We_ are not having anything. And if you go suggesting to Oliver that you, incorrectly, had any part in...in _whatever_ this could be, before he hears about the possibility of _it_ from me, then you're going to be the one puking from the pain of where he shoves a quiver of arrows into you."

"You haven't told him?!" He's an Olympic level drama llama.

I set a pod in and brew a fresh cup of coffee, my stomach making wary noises that end as soon as I take my first piping hot sip. "Until I take a test I'm not  _sure_ of anything. I'm not telling him, because that means there's _nothing_ to tell. It's a very fine line of difference." 

" _Felicity_ -" 

"Don't ' _Felicity_ ' me. You're part of the whole reason he's running almost solo these days, and you're the one who got the idea in his head that it might be Richard Dragon who was our Angel Investor. So not only is Oliver already freaking out about his office full of corruption, now he's worried about Dragon calling in an audit and bringing down our company or sending you and me to prison! I'm trying to protect him and 100% know that now is not the time to add anything onto his plate!"


	14. Pre 06x19 airing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have real life work to get done, tons to edit and add to other fics that are priorities, so of course the damned short I had last week keeps coming back to my head like an earwig.  
> If you don't want to re-read that portion then skip down to the first ellipsis.  
> Really and truly I intend this to be the end of it. I just saw the makeup for 6x20 and had a couple hours last night to actually write down what has been churning around in my head since this weekend.  
> Mistakes are my own, if there's one that bothers you and you want to point it out in comments you can and I'll correct them. The part with the Killer Frost bits was thought up before the last episode of Flash. So I'll just assume that she's going to come back "in the near future" she's too badass a character to just disappear.

**_Felicity_ **

The marker squeaks to a halt as my stomach lurches from the fumes. I stay absolutely still, wishing this away as Curtis unhelpfully repeats the rest of the formula that I didn't finish writing.

He looks up from his laptop at me when I don't put it on the board, I can feel his eyes on my back even if I can't see them. "Uh, Felicity, it's really important to, you know, have all of this down."

"I-"  _Nope._  The marker drops, clattering and rolling away as I run to the bathroom and dry heave. It doesn't take long. This has been on and off for the past couple days, and until now I've been able to stay by myself until this...this...this witching hour has passed. I make sure to only have a few sips of coffee or water before nine, because if I can make it until then I'll be good, but this morning it squeaked in just under the line with just three minutes to go.

It's not fair, I didn't have anything this morning and my caffeine withdrawal is pounding a headache behind my eyes. 

"Uh, not to tell you how to do things in your own home but you didn't flush and this is technically also the office, so it's definitely an ' _if it's yellow_ _don't_ _let it mellow, if it's brown then flush it down'_ environment." 

"Well if it's neither then nothing needs to happen."

"Puke counts as brown."

"I didn't puke, my body just  _tried_  to puke. There's a difference. And it's after nine I'm in the clear for the rest of the day."

"In the clear? You're not picking up an eating disorder, or...or oh! Like morning, and puking, and _damn that was faster than I expected_ after your reaction last time to the suggestion because you _kinda bit my head_ off but Oh-My-God-We're-Having-A-Baby!"

I give him a withering glare at the delight in his voice. " _We_  are not having anything. And if you go suggesting to Oliver that you, incorrectly, had any part in...in  _whatever_  this  _could_ be, before he hears about the possibility of  _it_  from me, then you're going to be the one puking from the pain of where he shoves a quiver’s worth of arrows into you."

"You haven't told him?!" He's an Olympic level drama llama.

I set a pod in and brew a fresh cup of coffee, my stomach making wary noises that will vanish as soon as I take my first piping hot sip. "Until I take a test I'm not  _sure_  of anything. I'm not telling him, because that means there's  _nothing_  to tell. It's a very fine line of difference." 

" _Felicity_ -" 

"Don't ' _Felicity_ ' me. You're part of the whole reason he's running almost solo these days, and you're the one who got the idea in his head that it might be Richard Dragon who was our Angel Investor. So not only is Oliver already freaking out about the city full of corruption, and the start of his trial tomorrow, now he's worried about Dragon calling in an audit and bringing down our company or sending you and me to prison! I'm trying to protect him, and I 100% know that now is _not_ the time to add anything onto his plate!"

…

We leave together, William joining us instead of going to school. He hasn’t shied away from anything and wanted to support his dad, no matter what was brought up in the trial. Oliver reluctantly agreed, but agreed.

The press is not just local, the crush of bodies, photographers, people with cameras ranging from phones to tens of thousands of dollars worth of professional equipment. William is as worried as I am, but Oliver has his mask in place. All those years of fake smiles and the appearance of being at ease, he tries to reassure his son, but I can see the concern in his eyes. “You two should go in the front, I can go through the side before they realize I’m here.” William gets a tight hug and reassurance, I get a kiss and a, “It’ll be fine.”

It doesn’t work out that way, there are just too many of them. As he hops out of the car they swarm. Oliver manages to make it to the door amid the bright flashes and yelling surge, giving us a break to drive just a bit further and dash in the front. Quentin intercepts us. Despite the argument that he’s not safe showing his support here he damns the entire thing and says that family sticks together. Curtis shows up too, for support.

…

It takes an hour to realize something is wrong. We sit in the middle of the room, everything closer already filled by reporters, lawyers, and police officers. The judge enters and Oliver’s defense team starts talking amidst themselves in fast whispers. I pull out my phone to see where exactly he is, but it is still just inside the side entrance.

The question rings out, “Where is the defendant?” and the rest of the room starts churning in whispers and searching, like he’ll appear out of thin air. The lawyers look at me and there’s no chance they’ll hear a whisper from me so I just say it, it’s not like the photographers didn’t already capture his arrival.

“We got here an hour ago, he went to the side entrance to avoid the circus out front.” I hold up my phone, “He should be whatever is over here…A waiting room?”

They send a guard who comes back and whispers something to the judge. “It seems that the defendant has failed to appear.”

William’s hand tightens on mine and I shoot Quentin a worried look. “He was here. It’s probably already online. _He was here_!”

“I am issuing a warrant for the arrest of Oliver Queen. Bail is forfeited. Prosecution, you may proceed. Defense, your client will be tried in absentia.”

“My dad is here!”

 “Young man, you are in a courtroom without your legal guardian-“

“I’m also his legal guardian.”

It’s faint, but I’ve seen enough gloating to recognize the hint of a smirk in the judge’s eyes. “Any more interruptions and I will start finding people in contempt of court. Prosecution-“

I grab William and stand to leave, a worse feeling running through my veins. Looking from him to Quentin I hiss, “We have to go.” They are concerned for Oliver, that much is clear, they’re not concerned about themselves, yet. “We have to go now. William, take my phone, call your Grandma Donna-“

We’re walking down the center aisle, “She wanted me to call her Aunt Donna?” is the confused interruption I get. 

I give a pointed look at Lance, “Call Aunt Donna, tell her you need to stay with family for a while. If she starts to drive you crazy, then you call your other grandparents, or Aunt Thea, whoever you can think of to stay with but-“ We make it to the doors as I shove over my phone, “Lance, we need to get him out of the city. Can you take him to my mom’s? Now? Right now?”

 “Felicity, what’s wrong? What just spooked you?”

“You know that gut feeling you have? Well mine is going crazy and-“

“Felicity Smoak,” As we enter the hallway two officers approach from either side and I push my purse into William’s hands then the pair of them in the other direction as I start walking faster, pretending not to hear as Curtis struggles to catch up through the crowd. A thick set of papers is thrust in my direction and a hand clamps down on my arm, “You’re  under arrest for unauthorized access of government computers, conspiracy to commit computer intrusions, illegally entering a government system, system interference of a government system, illegal interception of-“ they keep listing all the things I’d had nightmares of, and technically, _technically_ , they’re true. But they shouldn’t know about- “-under the alias Overwatch. Embezzlement of $500,000 from-”

Curtis looks at me wide eyed and I whisper demands to him as I’m cuffed, “Go! Make sure William is with family! Do not let them put him in the system, not for one hour! Who knows who they’ll… They have deep fingers, get him out, call John, call Barry, get help, find Oliver!”

**_Oliver_ **

The door barely is shoved behind me, hands still grabbing me from all sides as I fight my instincts to react, to get them off, to walk alone into that courtroom and instead work to silence my phone. I should have listened to my instincts.

The pinch of something at my neck, and by the time I’m ducking away I can feel whatever it was starting to work through my system. When the first swing comes at me I can’t move fast enough. The blows are fast and precise. I get pushed, stumbling into a room as they keep striking. The numbing of my limbs also dulls the pain, but I can’t get back up, can’t fight back, and that brings no relief. As I’m being lifted up Richard Dragon steps into view, smiles. “Mr. Queen, looks like you’re going to skip your trial today.”

I try to respond but only blood and air groans out of my mouth.

“Don’t worry about your family. I won’t hurt them. In fact you’ll know right where they are. Your wife will be in a cell for embezzlement, I do like to keep track of my money and that stunt of yours was a rather expensive hit.”

I see the blow coming but can’t avoid it, and either I don’t feel it, or I don’t remember feeling it.

…

It’s been hours, if not days of pain. The drugs make them hard to tell apart, and he’s taunted me before each new injection that I’ve been conscious for, but the scabs on my knuckles aren’t quite as fresh as they were last time I opened my eyes. Shifting to get a better look my arm doesn’t comply. A bracelet holds it down… _Not bracelet, handcuff_. A slow blink then a better look at the room.

Hospital.

The steady beeps always grate on my nerves. I’ve had far too many bad experiences in hospitals.

It takes me minutes to break out of the cuff, it should have taken seconds, but my body still feels disjointed from my mind. Surveying myself it doesn’t look as bad as it feels. They repeated strikes over each other, so there are bruises, but they’re limited and deep and agonizing. My face is a mess of cuts and marks, but it’s not a concern. William. Felicity. They are my concern.

The door starts opening and I lay back, feigning. The steps approaching hesitate for half a second then continue to my side. “Vitals still normal, I’ve told you already, it will likely be at least another day, maybe two before he regains consciousness. His body has been through severe trauma. I’d expect the cranial swelling to go down significantly, and these drugs to work their way out of his system before he’ll be of any use to you.” The voice I both value and dread each time I hear it, Dr. Schwartz.

Her hand squeezes my wrist as she checks the connections, hooking the metal so it rests on my skin but doesn’t bind it. “It’s been twelve hours since he was found, are you looking for the people who mugged him as diligently as you are keeping a watch on Mr. Queen considering he’s unconscious and bound to the bed?” Her voice drops to barely a breath, only for me, “Your friends left some things in the bag behind the chair. The officers switch out in another fifteen minutes, you will let the last of the antibiotics finish in the drip. There’s something for the pain in there too; let it finish, even if you have to take it with you.”

…

Waiting until after the shift change and the casual check off to make sure I’m still unconscious, I try to form a plan. If I knew anything, _anything_ , that was going on this would be easier, but the bag held no information, just clothes, a key, and a burner phone. Binding the IV to the top of my shoulder with tape peeled off of what I deem unnecessary gauze pads I switch from hospital gown to the dark clothes.

The apartment is closer than the bunker, though I know neither will be safe, I spend those minutes calling. Felicity doesn’t answer. Neither does Diggle, or Thea, or even William. The panic is growing tighter in my chest with each failed connection. Slipping in through the window I can feel the lack of anyone here. I still search, no Felicity, no William _…He should be in school, school’s not safe, he should be here_. No Rosa. There are things missing, small things, hangers and drawers askew to show some of William’s clothes are missing, taken fast. Phones, computers, the important things but nothing big. Felicity’s clothes are still here.

I stare down at whatever is growing in the dregs of what was a glass of juice, probably from breakfast before leaving for the trial. _I told William to put it in the sink but he was distracted. We all were._

I need to find them. It feels like I’m losing my mind. A note is drawn onto fridge in dry erase marker ‘William safe. Call friends ASAP!’ _Call. I need to.. ._ I try  again, with the same lack of luck until I run out of memorized numbers. Stretching I look up the one STAR Laboratories has on their website, a morose sounding voice answers.

“Barry?”

There is a noise of surprise, “Oliver? Is that-? Man! Where the hell have you been?!”

“Doesn’t matter. I can’t reach anyone, William, Felicity, they-?”

“William is safe. With Felicity’s mom. She has some big shot custody lawyer from Vegas helping her maintain temporary guardianship. Mayor Lance got him there before the verdict was even read. He’s safe.”

“Felicity?”

“She…Man you have to understand they charged her with everything from hacking and espionage, to aiding and abiding. Last time I saw her she was in solitary, freaking out about you still being-“

“Solitary? But she…there would have been a hearing.”

“With everything going down, your absence, they denied bail and put her in immediate custody. ARGUS tried but the transfer to them was denied crazy fast. She said Dragon owns Star City, and was more interested in finding you.”

“But you were there. You saw her… You just…just left her there?”

He is defensive, “I went back, but they moved her. We haven’t been able to figure out where and the transfer records went missing.”

“You left her there?”

“I _wanted_ to take her, with that list…there’s no way she’s getting a fair hearing, but she was afraid…”

“Afraid of what?”

“Maybe nervous is the better word. It’s not my place to say…She wasn’t certain…she said she didn’t want to give you more to worry about.”

“Barry!”

“She didn’t want me to risk phasing her through the walls.”

 _Why would that make her nervous?_ “Did the chip malfunction?” _We never had Curtis look deeper into the repairs after the EMP._

“That would be a totally reasonable concern to have for not wanting to do that…We’ve tried everything we have to find her, when Cisco was stopping back in from his dimension hopping he tried to figure out where she was but it was just dark walls in a windowless cell, there were no clues. And her computer won’t open for any of us-”

 _The computer. The tracking software! Finally, something going right._ “You have her computer? She registered me on-! Where is it?”

“I..” There is the whistling sound of air for a second which I can only assume means he got the laptop, suited up, or both, “I can be there in two hours, where should I meet you?”

“The bunker.”

“No! I mean, no, you can’t go there! Curtis showed up here with harddrives, equipment, and a giant cooler full of blood packs and dry ice, which by the way is rather morbid to have on hand-“

“It’s not all mine and they’ve proven necessary in the past.”

“He said he put it in lockdown mode and that tripped on the drive over here two days ago. Everyone went into defense mode.”

“Then where do you suggest we meet?”

“Can you get to the café near the train station?”

“Two hours, I’ll be there…bring my suit if Curtis moved it.”

…

It takes the full two hours, and stealing a motorcycle to get there.

My biometrics and passcode gets past the encryption, but as I stare down the tracking program I am lost. “Cayden James wrote it, Felicity’s used it, I’ve just never…” _I should have asked her to show me how to use it._

Barry manages to get Curtis on the phone, and between them they figure it out. Felicity is only fifty miles away. He calls Caitlin telling her where to deviate – apparently she had been driving the van since he left. She’ll be there an hour after we arrive if she ‘drives fast’ and I’m not about to argue.

…

Barry does his thing, dropping an armload of cameras as I make a guess based on the layout of the place. Tracking will find a GPS coordinate, but it won’t tell me what level to find her, and this place goes deep.

The first two tries were empty rooms, the third…Barry passes me through the door silently, then goes to shut down sensors and take out guards. Scanning the dimly lit room in a heartbeat, I see a curled up shadow on the thin mat that must serve as a bed. My voice is rough, “Felicity?”

The response is miserable and angry, but absolutely her voice, “Go away.”

Relief pours through me. “Felicity, I-“

“No! It’s not fair, I can deal with the silence, and the darkness, and…I can deal with everything but you need to go back in my head and stop teasing me!”

I am already beside her, slipping a tracker dot behind her ear _because fuck taking chances_ , trying to pull her up into my arms before her eyes widen. “You’re real? You’re really real?

“I-” The room goes silent as she squeezes me so tight my body aches and I can’t breathe, but I won’t stop her.

“If they catch you- There’s a warrant out! You’re a fugitive! You were there and then you weren’t and- What happened to you?” Her grip eases and she looks at me, her eyes widening in horror as they take in the state of me. “What happened to you!? Did he do this?”

“I’m…I’ll be fine. We need to go.”

“But-“ She looks at the door and touches my face again as if to double check that I’m real. “But-“

“We can fix the chip if it breaks, but we’re getting you out of here. Now.”

The look she gives me is baffled, “My chip? The implant? Why would it break?”

I almost call him by his name but I correct myself while leading her towards the door, “Flash said you were-“

“I didn’t say anything!” The interruption comes from the man phasing through the door.

I don’t care. “Get her out of here.”

Her full attention is on him, “Did you check? What did they say?”

“They were pretty sure-“

She backs up a step, further into the corner, “Pretty sure?”

Barry looks nervous, “They were 80% sure it wouldn’t-“

“That is not a risk I’m willing to take!”

I don’t know what the argument is about, and I don’t care, it’s wasting time. “Get her out of here now!”

She holds up a hand, like it’s going to stop me, “He can’t.”

I lift her, wincing at the strain on bruised and broken parts of me, before placing her in Barry’s reach, “Why the hell not?”

“It’s safer for-“ I give her _The Look_ and she tries again, “ Richard Dragon is out there.”

“And he controls this place, which makes it no safer than-”

 

**_Felicity_ **

I cut off his words, throwing my hands up in frustration after pushing myself back another step, “ _This is not how I wanted this to go_ …I’m…I think I’m pregnant. Maybe.”

He just stares at me.

“ _Maybe_.”

He blinks.

“Arrow?” Nothing. “Arrow,” hiss it in an almost inaudible whisper, “Honey? Say something.”

“You could have told me.” He looks down at the unflattering prison uniform like he’s expecting an eight month pregnancy belly to appear.

“With everything going on I figured the stress was just making me skip my cycle, then right before the trial date I started getting queasy, always between seven and nine, I though it was just the seasonal allergies since the pollen has been out in full force, but…but it’s been a few months since…If it was…I just don’t think it’s safe to…” He hasn’t let go of me, his grip loosened but it’s still on my arm.

“We’re getting you out of here, now. Flash! Get-!”

“I don’t want to risk-!”

Oliver throws something at the door, Barry darting out of the way in a blur as small explosions flare at the three points of contact. The heavy block of steel and concrete crashes to the ground, the echo drawing shouts from beyond the cell. “Take her somewhere safe.”

“No! I’m not leaving you here to fight your way out when you’re barely standing as is!”

He doesn’t even meet my gaze, staring at Barry, “If it was you and your wife you know what I would do.”

I don’t hesitate to counter the argument in an unnecessary hiss, since there’s no way my voice could be louder than the door falling, “And you know what _Mrs. Flash_ would do to him if he did that!”

Barry looks from me to him, runs a gloved hand over the back of his head, if the helmet wasn’t there he’d be grabbing a fistful of hair, then sighs out, “Ok. I’ve got this.”

There is no time for any other arguments or questions, because in the next breath we are a blur through the halls. Coming to a sudden stop in front of a closed door, the grip on me doesn’t ease, but Oliver steadies himself then takes it down as easily as he did at my cell. A blurr of steps spirals by

“Oh god,” We are released as Barry presses a hand to his back, “that definitely pulled something.”

My stomach twists and I cover my mouth, fighting off a dry heave that doesn’t want to stay dry. Barry phases a hand through until there’s a powering down of the system around the door, still wincing as Oliver forces the thing open.

We’re moving again.

There is a blessedly nondescript van in front of where we come to a stop a minute and miles later. I do lose the meal that could not handle the trip.

Killer Frost makes a face, passing over the icy bottle of water she was drinking from, then eyes Barry. “Need to start lifting weights? I’m sure that one would give you a few tips.” She freezes the moisture in the air  to frame a starburst around my husband.

Barry rolls his eyes and leans against the van, catching his breath. “What happened to Caitlin?”

“We ran into some slow granny drivers, she slowed down, I _encouraged_ them to move and got us here faster.”

Oliver doesn’t wait for any further banter. “Please, Caitlin, make sure she’s ok.”

 _She doesn’t like to be called Caitlin_. I finish rinsing my mouth, “Look who’s talking! You’re still bleeding!” The cut in his brow is oozing, and he’s definitely not standing like he’s not in pain.

He pulls his hood further over his face.

“I may not even be…” It’s stupid, I’m sure Barry included her on trying to figure out if it was safe to move me through a wall, and I just said it out loud in the cell, but for some reason I’m still reluctant to say it.

Oliver crosses his arms, standing a good couple feet away from me. “ _I know that_ , but I love all of you. And I know if you are,” his eyes close for a second, “pregnant, and anything happened because we waited just a bit too long, you would never, _never_ , forgive yourself. So if you think I’m not going to try and protect you from what you’d do to yourself, then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did!”

The air turns frigid. Killer Frost flicks ice off her fingers, “You can both shut up. Either wait until we’re somewhere away from here, or keep arguing about firsts and we can go step by step in tandum. I’m betting that will make the pair of you just as unhappy as you are now, I have _very_ cold hands.”

We protest, and tell her to check the other in the same breath.

“Barry, down to their underwear and in the seats, we need to get moving, so you’ll drive.”

 

**_Oliver_ **

“Wai-“ It’s too late. I find myself stripped down and sitting before I can move. Felicity takes one look at me and makes a stifled whimpering noise that hurts worse than anything on my body. Taking stock of where everyone is, I frown at the rearview mirror while Barry starts up the van, pointedly not looking back at us.

Killer Frost drolls, “I assumed that with your ‘concerns’ you both had seen each other in less than your skivvies  before. Or is it a newfound modesty? Neither of you have anything we haven’t seen before, though if you do-”

“Yeah, well you’re not exactly shy either, Ms. Freeze.” _Don’t antagonize the doctor_ , _Honey_.

An annoyed tone starts to rise in her inflection. “Killer Frost.”

“Ladies.” My tone ends the train of thought.

One by one she checks our pulses, pupils, bends us forward to press an ear to our backs and instructing when deep breaths are needed. Felicity nervously babbles about how the precursor to the modern stethoscope was invented by someone who was uncomfortable pressing his ear to ladies to listen, though she understands not wanting to be up close and personal to a ‘sickly grandma.’

It is unnerving to have this virtual stranger leaning so intimately, smelling at some of my wounds with a bored, “Checking for infection.” There are a few that she points out as needing repair when we are not moving.

She scan’s over Felicity. “You’ve had any cramps or bleeding? And you can back off with the crowding, _Boyfriend_.”

_Husband._

“No, none.”

“Been to an OB? Taken a test yet?”

“Haven’t really found the time.”

Her eyes flicker from nearly white to brown then back again as she plugs something into her phone. Slowly it powers up and the software loads. “Not really a, uh, specialty of ours…For this early it’s usually checked with an internal wand, but this is what I’ve got, and it’s not going inside you.” The rounded tip is pressed to Felicity’s belly.

I try to get a better look at the phone, “Back off! Where I’ve got it right now wouldn’t look different for anyone in this van, regardless of what they’re packing in their boxer briefs.” She inches it along, adjusting angles, pushing the wand tip harder than I’m fully convinced is necessary low enough to need to move the little remaining fabric covering Felicity.

Frost squints at the shades of gray and white. Shifts again, then presses a button. A little nudge, another press, then, “Well, you have a little alien growing in there.”

A tense silence fills the van.

“Oh…yeah, that’s apparently a concern for you. Not a _literal_ alien.” She points to a small smudge on the screen.

I have to remember how to breathe, and Felicity’s wide eyes meet mine for only a fraction of a second.

Barry’s strained “Um…congratulations?” breaks the fragile moment. Felicity immediately grabs the phone and stares, shifting the screen like it will give her a better look.

I find my hand reaching towards the spot the device was touching, and force my arm to stop. It feels like my muscles will tear with the strain to pull back. _She can’t go back to Star City. It will be just me, but they’ll all be safe._

The motion earns me a withering stare from Killer Frost. “You’re not going to hurt it.”

Felicity looks up at that, sees my retreating fist, and pulls it to the spot I had focused on.

My body relaxes at the soft feel of her skin.

White hair is starting to shift to brown, “This is too touchy feely,” Killer Frost starts climbing over into the front seat, “and you should really wait until those stitches are fixed before you two bang it out or you’ll make a mess of the van.”

Barry scoffs back a choked noise, and I can feel the brief instant of a wide eyed glance from the mirror, “They’re not-“

I don’t know what secret mental communication it seems the women that come into my life always seem to share, but Felicity doesn’t seem to be bothered by the comment, stretching across the now vacant middle of the seat to kiss me. Folded clothes are thrown from the front seat and they bump against us. Felicity apparently has other ideas than getting dressed, and deep down I’m loath to deny her. I am absolutely certain that when she hears my intentions to pack her off to the safety of _anywhere_ but our home she’ll not be so happy to see me.

 

**_Felicity_ **

I can hear his brain churning, but right now I’m more focused on the immediate. I’ve been worried sick, imagining the worst since he didn’t walk into that courtroom. Now I can blame fluctuating hormones for the emotional extremes running through me, but I’m going to be selfish before he opens his mouth again and ruins it. I’m going to have him, and feel him safe and alive, though battered, and if doing that requires having a disinterested and uncomfortable audience, then so be it.

I kiss him hard enough to taste the blood from the split at the side of his lips. My hand lands somewhere tender because he makes a sharp exhale.

Barry’s voice comes again, “Wait- What? Guys, what are-?”

There is consternation in Killer Frost’s sarcastic, “You see, when a mommy and daddy love each other very much-“

_Mommy._

He kisses my neck and I give a pleased sigh. The van swerves in the haste to pull over as Oliver’s hand moves to the back of my head. The engine isn’t even off when there is the only fractionally separated slam of doors, and we are alone.

“Felicity.” I hear it in his voice, clear as anything ‘ _I love you_.’

“Oliver.” _I love you too._

His touch is lingering, like he’s…. He thinks I’m going to let him and it’s an almost frustratingly cute remnant of naiveté. He’ll isolate, blame, try to do it all alone. _Oh no the fuck you’re not!_ “No.” His body goes still and he starts to pull his hands back before I grab his arms to keep them where they are, “God, _yes_ to that, no to what you’re planning.”

He doesn’t even try to deny it, “I need you safe.”

“And I need you safe. Your- Our family needs you safe.”

He groans, and I take the moment to straddle him, and his words fail.

…

It is fast, this isn’t exactly the situation for a long slow lovemaking, but it is full of passion. It is messy, his wounds stain my skin, and it’s not like we _need_ a condom anymore. I’m still leaning against him, panting for breath against his neck when the thought pops to mind. _I’m going to have to apologize to Barry…and pay for this thing to be cleaned._

Oliver kisses the side of my face. “We need to get you somewhere safe.”

I lean back and give him a frown, “We _both_ need to get somewhere safe.”

He shakes his head, “It’s not up for argument, you’re in no condition to be putting yourself at risk with me!”

My mind whispers insidious thoughts that I hadn’t even considered before. I grab my clothes and put as much distance as the van allows between us, “Are you making me choose between having you and having our child?”

“What?” Oliver looks confused then blinks in surprise, “No! N-No I’m not!”

I yank the top over my head and cross my arms over myself, “I know we didn’t really talk about-“

He grabs my hand, “As long as you’re ok I’m happy.”

The discarded phone buzzes from the floor. I look down as a series of messages pop onto the screen.

BA: The van’s stopped moving

BA: If

BA: …

BA: If you’re done we need to get moving

BA: …

BA: Before your escape is common knowledge

_We’re fugitives._


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While there have been a few things I’ve liked from the past couple episodes (the depiction of Felicity worrying because she’s not in the know, the fight between Dragon and Oliver because that was quite well done, and I’ve been happy with Paul Blackthorne’s [Quentin] work), for the most part it’s not been much of interest. This popped in my head during my commute [on Friday, been too busy of a weekend to get it up until now] so it’s another one-off short. I’ve casually seen a few photos, and rumors of spoilers, but without a real frame of reference I’m sure how I incorporate them won’t be right, I liked it this way, so if you read hopefully you will too.

**_Felicity_ **

When there is a knock at the door after midnight, I don't know who exactly I expected but it definitely wasn't the person I got.

Black Siren, because even in my head I won't call her our friend's name, and a goon or three stand out in the hall. She waits another five seconds before drawling, "I know you're there. Even if you didn't have _his_ son dreaming away in there, the shadow at the peep hole gives you away.”

Frowning, I debate moving closer to the couch so if she huffs and puffs she won’t take me down with the door, my fingers already typing out a fast ‘ _BS is @ my home, Will here. SOS?_ ’ "What do you want?"

Smugness oozes from her voice, "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Did you turn stupid as well as being a lying-"

"Would you prefer I break down the door, wake your step-son, your neighbors?"

_Damn it._ A few steps and I yank open the door just far enough to show my face through, “If you think I’m letting them in my home-“

Black Siren waves her hand practically snarling “Wait here,” pushing her way in while loudly saying, “I don’t know if Ollie told you, but before you get any ideas, it’s better for _everyone_ involved if he doesn’t make bail again if they offer. Consequences would be tragic.”

My phone buzzes, letting me know at least one of the people on the group send got my message. “Because he’s better off in jail? Well forgive me about not believing anything that comes out of your mouth, any false concern for any of us. I saw how he looked when they took him in.” _It’s been a week, a full week of smearing triple antibiotic ointment on where and when I could during breaks in the proceedings, and some of those injuries still look raw, not to mention the knife wound. Even if he shrugs it off like it’s nothing as usual, it is not ‘nothing’!_

“And I saw him get like that. If Ollie is walking free while Richard Dragon is, no one is safe. Ollie’s son, you, that ridiculous group you call a team, everyone he cares about.

Twice more in quick succession my phone buzzes in my pocket, “Don't touch them.”

She moves right into my bubble of personal space, “Oh Honey, I won't be doing any _touching_.”

I want to stand my ground, I _try_ to stand my ground, but when she’s an inch away I can’t stop my backwards shuffle of half a step, “You can get the hell out of my home.”

“You could interest him.” Black Siren’s fingers waggle in my direction as she turns and walks out the door, pausing with a wink, “Who knows what he'd negotiate now that he's down a hacker. Might even be willing to let your husband keep breathing as long as it’s in prison.”

…

The door shut and locked, I send a fast ‘She’s gone, all fine. Stand down kiwis. Thanks.’ Two of the messages were from John, and I start hunting for something to offer him as a snack, because no matter what I say I know he’ll be here soon. It’s what I would do.

True to form he shows up, using the spare key we had to force him to keep after going to ARGUS, gun drawn and scoping out the corners.

“All clear, John. I _included_ the all clear that you were smart enough to drill into my head.”

He quietly checks the rooms anyways, silently opening, looking, and closing William’s door before giving me a frustrated look, “Kiwis aren’t green on the outside, they’re brown.”

I defend my choice, keeping my voice low even if I’m still shaken by the earlier unwanted guests. “Sometimes they are, the fuzzless small ones.”

“Next time pick something simple, like a lime.”

“Next time?”

I get a hug after he makes sure I’m actually fine, “There’s always a next time.” A few quick words and he knows as much as I do, and John’s point about it being a trap didn’t need to be said.

Pacing, my venting is equal parts frustration and anger, “After all the things we've done, _lost_ for this city, and they just let this...this...psychopath own them!”

“What are you going to do?”

My thoughts stutter amidst the paths they are taking. “I don't know yet”

“Promise you'll call for backup”

“I did this time.”

He crosses his arms. “Felicity!”

“Fine!...I need to see Oliver tomorr…this morning, can you get me a couple minutes before he has to be in court?”

“I’ll see what strings we can pull. Want me to stay here tonight?”

“Black Siren made her point, she won’t be back here. She might show in court again to gloat, but not here. Go home, give my love to your loves.”

…

The chains clink as Oliver shifts, trying to stand even though he’s attached with cuffs to the bar on the table and the hook on the chair, “Felicity?”

Even with bulletproof glass separating the halves of the room it’s the closest we’ve been alone since this farce of a trial began. I press my hand to the barrier and his mirrors the action. Not so quietly the door shuts behind me, “Hey stranger.”

Oliver is no happier than John was hearing the details of last night. Doubly unhappy when I tell him I have a few things in the air to try and help. “Like you shared the details of your plan with me? I love you, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still pissed, or scared.”

“John has offered to help find a way out, I can-“

“And have you on the run for the rest of your life? You’re already skirting forfeiture of the bail if they can finagle it, and I can’t afford to lose that, don’t make it worse. Besides, if they manage to get you up there and talking I don’t think they’ll let you get away with skirting around the question of if you are the Green Arrow like you have been.” And he’s danced around that so well over the years, answering their questions with questions, saying it’s ridiculous, but never actually lying, never actually saying ‘No, I am not the Green Arrow,’ even so far as saying he’s been in contact with the people who have worn the title, because that too is true. The friends and the enemies who have posed as him, not just Roy and John, but Merlyn, Ras, those League drones, Chase was mistaken for him a few times, hell, even I put on the mask and jacket once or twice…but of course that was for entirely different sorts of nighttime activities, and never out in public.

…

The day is eventful. Even with the surprise appearance of my backup plan they don’t take it as proof that Oliver is “innocent.”

I could see the shock on his face, and to be honest, the entrance was with all the drama and flair was just as surprising to me. The looks to the prosecution let me know all I needed to, there is no way they’re letting Oliver off, it doesn’t matter what we manage.

The phone call to Dragon via Black Siren is both shockingly easy and dreadfully hard.

…

I know John and his team is here, I’m not sure about the rest. Approaching the bridge on foot the city at night is eerie. Even when they’re out on patrols it is never this silent, there is never the utter lack of traffic, and I had arranged this meeting to be in public for the safety of numbers, not…this.

A car revs up behind me and I tense. _Be ready John, you’ll get one shot_. The lights are still blinding, even with a hand trying to shield my eyes as a door slams.

“You really think you’re meeting this son of a bitch alone?”

_Quentin?_ “That’s the deal. We talk, just the two of us.”

Half jogging to get to me, like I’m going to bolt from him, his voice is full of exasperation. “And you’re trusting him based on what?”

…

Quentin was right, unfortunately the company Dragon brought was Black Siren. I’m not quite sure where John is positioned but through the few minutes of threats, angry retorts, and seductive lies trying to convince me to work for him, but the expected shot is not taken.

“You keep looking around, expecting company?” Dragon’s smile is as chilling as the gun he pulls. “They’re a little preoccupied.”

A sharp humming noise gets loud and the two T-Spheres whiz into view. Everything happens at once. The spheres drop something that looks like a net that is crackling with electricity, Quentin’s body shoves mine back and away, Black Siren looks from Dragon to Quentin and starts blasting a sonic scream before her eyes finish widening, for half an instant as it hits us and we go flying backwards the sound of gunfire is unmistakable, then we’re slamming into the crumbling concrete barrier and being flung off the bridge.

The plunge is disorienting, a weightless freefall. I grab at Quentin’s arm when he bumps against me, and am yanked closer as we manage to twist enough to hit the water feet first.

It is freezing.

A punch to the face and gut and everything with a glacially cold water. Pitch black. No way to tell which direction is up, but at least that tight grip lets me know we both survived impact.

Quentin’s the first to recover, quickly dragging us to what ends up being the surface before my brain can think of anything but ‘ _Cold_ ’ and ‘ _Fuck_ ’. I can feel him gasping and shivering as hard as I am when we break into the air, but the ringing in my ears, and I’m sure in his too, is too loud to waste the breath trying to talk through blueing lips.

John is there as we slowly make our way towards the riverbank under the protection of the bridge. His crazy strong arms drag us out of the water like the pair of us weigh no more than his son.

We sit, huddled as he does a no-nonsense precursory check. Between one blink and the next I find myself in a van, wrapped in blankets with heat blasting, the sounds are dull but present. “John? Quentin?”

A familiar hand lands on my shoulder, “Hey there.”

One of the two down, I twist to look around, spotting Quentin in his own blanket cocoon. A small measure of relief eases in my chest. Teeth chattering, I demand, “What happened?”

John starts shining a penlight in my eyes again, “You passed out.”

“No. On the bridge, what happened?”

“I think Black Siren saved our lives by knocking us away before that thug could fire the gun.” Quentin’s voice is tight with emotions, and his eyes won’t meet mine.

“That’s not what I’m…John, what happened to taking him down?”

“He knew, I don’t know how he knew, but he knew we were going to be there and had people waiting for my teams. When the lines started dropping I called in the kids and hauled ass to the bridge.”

…

Apparently when you’re with the mayor you get pushed out of view instead of waiting in the group room at the ER. Oliver obviously has a thing against hospitals so I never had this experience with him, but now am given the privilege to a separate room, with a divider curtain as we each get stripped of the soaked clothes, draped in the dreaded hospital gowns, and checked over for more than near-hypothermia. At least there’s warm saline packs.

The doctor comes back in and motions to the orderlies towards my bed, “This is just as a precaution-“

I shoot a look towards the two that came with me, “What?! No, I’m staying here. I need…He’s my doctor. Doctor John Diggle!”

John doesn’t even hesitate, “Mrs. Smoak has been in my care for years, aside from the spinal treatment.”

The ER doctor doesn’t waste time either, keeping the chart she’s carrying out of his reach, “Be that as it may Mr. Diggle, you do not have hospital privileges here.”

“What’s wrong?

“It’s just a precaution we’ll go over the details in the other room.”

…

**_Oliver_ **

John is waiting outside the hall as they finish strapping the ankle monitor on me and I am led out the security doors. I don’t understand, but the quiet speed at which I was shoved my clothes, both my shirt and undershirt are sealed in dark plastic bag, stained and torn…John pulls off one of his dark layers and hands it to me as I’m signing papers stating long paragraphs of restrictions. “What’s going on?”

While I skip to the end and sign each highlighted section he stands there, stoic but tense, battle mode. “Quentin pressed every one of his favors from being a cop and father of a DA and got you on temporary bail, reinstating the former funds. Consider yourself having had an emergency hearing in front of a judge.”

John’s steps are wide, making my side ache when forcing myself to keep up, “He got me out on bail? What’s wrong?”

“Made a convincing argument on the phone with the judge, even pulled out being trapped in the precinct when someone he loved needed him in the hospital.”

“John-?!”

“Get in the car, you only have until the trial resumes in the morning.”

Not questioning, I follow the instruction. As he peels out while buckling experience tells me as much as I want to demand answers that I need to wait for him to volunteer the information.

…

I’m tearing out of the car before it fully stops. Reception is the only thing that slows me since they wouldn’t provide her room number over the phone.

“I am required to ask, are you family Mr. Queen? And I will need to see your ID.”

“I'm her husband.” I feel through my pockets, only now remembering that I didn’t bring a wallet with me to Anatoly’s. “Please?”

She looks around, and seeing no one else nearby, has me sign the screen and prints me a visitor badge, providing the room number at the same time as the sticker, pointing the direction I should head.

My palms slam against the door, making Felicity screech as it flings open. I love that noise in this minute, because it means she's alive, conscious, aware enough to be startled.

“Oliver?”

Looking over at the bed I see bumps and bruises, cuts and tangled hair, pale skin with smudges of makeup around her eyes, but the monitors shows a steady beat, the numbers tracking in glowing green.

“Oliver! Oh my- how are-? Please tell me you didn't break out?!”

“No. Quentin. He...I have until trial tomorrow,” I run my fingers through my hair while approaching, to keep them occupied, wanting to but not touching her with my shaking hands. “He said you..they were worried and moving you. Something’s wrong? What’s wrong?”

“I-” She looks something. Dazed, confused… _Worried, she didn't look worried laying in a hospital bed with nerves severed after being gunned down, why does she look worried?_ “Oliver…”

_No. Whatever it is, to have her like this, it’s not something small, something simple… Please no._ I reach out and our fingers twine.

Her words are still choppy, “I..I don't know how to...what to... William-“

It’s like a punch to the gut, but I keep my face blank. Whatever this is I won’t let it tear us apart. "We'll get through this, together"

“But he's such a...He's going to think…No, he’s going to be a great big brother.”

I hear the words, but they don't quite register the fact that I'm not going to lose her. I blink and stare.

“I..I mean...we haven't...I...I want...if everything with it is ok after... I want to keep our...”

_Big brother. Brother. Little brother or sister._

Her hand tries to pull away, “Oliver say something.”

A goofy smile starts to push my cheeks. _She’s not dying._ “You're? You’re ok. You’re-"

“I think…I mean, they told me-”

My lips meet hers before she can stumble her way through anymore words. Her hand presses over my heart as I lean closer, and my fingers lace to keep it there. Something lets out a long pulse of a beep, but she keeps kissing me like I’m going to disappear.

The speaker on the bed’s remote blasts a loud, “What can we do for you Mrs. Smoak?”

“Nothing. Didn’t mean to…” She fishes the thing out from beside her hip and lets it dangle off the bed. “Ignore please.”

“Someone will be in, in a minute to reset the alert.”

The tiny curse that slips from her lips to mine is beautiful. “I have you for less than twelve hours. I’m sorry Baby, but you’re going to need to get like five shots of espresso on your way in to court.”

She’s exhausted, and she’ll try to make good on that ‘threat,’ but I will be sleeping next to my wife in this bed tonight. “Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm.”


End file.
